


Sweetums

by EonAO3



Category: Captain America (Movies), Chris Evans - Fandom, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Celebrity Crush, Chris Evans Fandom - Freeform, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:16:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonAO3/pseuds/EonAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the owner of a successful small business serving light fare, coffees, and bakery treats, you've gotten to know your regulars pretty well. When a handsome new customer comes along, you can't keep the butterflies from fluttering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetums

**Author's Note:**

> Slow play fluff for a hopeless romantic I know

The small silver bell over the front door jingled softly, reminding you there was still another half hour until you could turn the lock and call it a night. You always scheduled light to close on Tuesdays. They were usually pretty slow nights. Tonight was no exception and you'd let your barista go home early to study for an exam. The new customer gave you a whopping four people in the store, yourself included.

You told the next customer you'd be right there, pushing in a wayward chair to the table you were wiping down. Crossing the dining area, you asked what you could get the man, trying to make the walk more productive and less "staring at a stranger walking".

"Looks like you're about to close," the man noted. "I'm sorry, I'm just waiting on AAA and thought I'd kill time."

"No worries," you assured him with a nonchalant wave of your hand as you rounded the end of the counter. "It always looks like this late on a Tuesday. What can I get for you?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, eyes running over the handwritten chalk board menus behind you on the wall. His eyebrows raised, curious and maybe a little overwhelmed by the selection of baked goods and light fare. "What's good?"

"All of it," you answered, playfully smug. 

"Oh, well, of course," he agreed with a smile, gesturing his hand to the menu. "Obviously. But if you had to choose..."

"I'd recommend the caramel crumb cake," you said, with a knowing smile and nod as you pushed aside a box of napkins and stirring sticks you'd set out to restock.

"Okay then," he agreed. "And a coffee...please."

You looked back up at hearing the added "please" and finally got a good look at your customer. Smiling politely from underneath a Red Sox cap, he was tall and handsome, exceptionally built with a neatly trimmed beard. The definition of his strong upper body tested the limits of the dark grey t-shirt he was wearing as much as it tested the limits of what was an appropriate amount of time you could get away with staring at his impossibly sculpted arms and chest. If it weren't for having an order to ring and fill, you probably would have exceeded the limit. Too long or not long enough, you gave a silent thank you to the makers of Under Armor and sweatpants. The glasses and beard gave off a vibe that almost warned "hipster" but there was also something so rugged and athletic about him that it couldn't be true. 

"For here or to go?" you asked, refocusing your thoughts as you put the order in the register.

"Here," he decided, as his eyes scanned over the shop.

You gave him the total and he handed you a twenty. Making change, you bumped the cash drawer closed with your hip and turned to ready his order. Coffee poured and on the counter, you slid open the bakery case door and put a serving of cake on a small dish for him. Moving back to the register area, you handed him the plate and he inclined his head at the wall behind you.

"I thought businesses framed their first dollar," he said.

You glanced over your shoulder at the framed $5 bill on the wall. "Yeah, well, ya know what they say- go big or go home."

He laughed and you smiled along with an innocent shrug. The man picked up his coffee and took a seat at a table near the front window, you presumed to watch for his tow truck. You went back to work, refilling napkin holders and stashing the stirrers in the cabinet below the register. Busying yourself with prepping for closing in awhile, shelves were straightened, counters wiped, chairs pushed in, and the stray pieces of wrappers and other flotsam were swept into a dust pan. You disappeared to the back to start the dish washer and by the time you came back, your paired up customers were leaving. Grabbing a rag, you bused and wiped the table, emptying your hands of the dishes onto a cart by the kitchen door.

Your last customer looked around the room after the departure of your other patrons and he checked his watch before gazing hopefully out the window and down the street. He checked his phone on the table beside his mug, apparently looking for a call or text he wanted and frowning when there didn't appear to be one. Standing up from his table, he finished whatever was left in his cup in one swallow, pocketed his phone, and gathered his plate under his mug, carrying it to the counter. You met him near the register again, reaching out for the dishes in his hand.

"Trying to steal my job?" you quipped.

"Looks like you're the only one here," he said. "Thought you could use a hand."

You reciprocated his smile and thanked him. Turning away, you added the dirty dishes to your small collection for the next round of the dishwasher. When you turned back, your helpful customer was reaching for the door. He turned back over his shoulder with a kind smile.

"Thanks for the recommendation," he said. 

You shrugged humbly and raised a hand to wave goodbye as he left. You watched after him a moment, shamelessly eyeing his broad shoulders and how well his ass wore those pants. Your eyes were tactfully averted elsewhere when he turned through the door and crossed the store front windows as he went. You felt pretty confident your ogling had gone unnoticed. You walked around the counter and locked the door for the night.

Sunday afternoons were always nice. The staff was in a good mood, everyone having a good Staurday night story or two to share between runs of customers and everyone liked the shorter hours on Sundays. The crowd was always relaxed, their conversations a murmur just above the 90s alternative rock Muzak station. The sound of dishes clinking and silverware rattling around full tables meant another good day of business. God, you loved your little shop.

The bell rattled over the door a few times in quick succession as a group left and a man came in. You did a double take on your way out of the kitchen with a tray of freshly cut treats for the bakery counter. He was back, Mr. AAA. He fell into the short line, studying the menu boards as the cue crept along. You transferred your cakes and breads into the case, stealing a side eye glance now and again to track his progress.

Was he cuter today? Still sporting the Sox hat, the burgundy henley and dark wash jeans wrapped around him perfectly. You got a better look at those beautiful blue eyes without glasses today. The warm hues from the sunset streaking through the storefront and framing him like an angel didn't hurt either. From the top of your vision, you saw him slide down the counter to stand in front of the display case with a large mug of coffee in one hand. Beside you, your barista begged your pardon, reaching in for a piece of caramel crumb cake.

"So," he began, spotting you through the glass and quirking up one eyebrow. "Sweetums. Is that you?"

"What?" The question left you on a confused breath as you straightened up from the case. You closed your eyes tight, grimacing for a second at your own stupity. "Oh, the name of the shop. Yeah. Yeah, I guess, I'm Sweetums."

He snorted out a small laugh, picking up his cake and turning down his eyes. "No, well, I didn't mean," he fumbled. "I was just...I'm gonna take this over there now."

He turned from the counter on his heels and walked to an empty table. You glanced back over, watching him slouch back comfortably into a chair and take out his phone. You bit your lip, hoping that whole exchange hadn't been as awkward as you thought it was. The pastries still needed rearranging and you bent back into the case to finish your work, listening to the cash register ring and the low hum of the machines behind you. 

Standing up from your place behind the counter, you scanned across the room. He was still there, half eaten cake on its plate and mug to his lips while he scrolled through something on his phone. You couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged back one side of your mouth on the way back into the kitchen. There was something charming in the way he sat at your table, alone but content, handsome yet unassuming. It was refreshing. And it gave your heart a little flutter to remember the image while you loaded a rack of mugs and plates into the dish washer in back.

Fussing around in the kitchen, stacking clean dishes and cleaning counters, you stole a quick peek back into the shop from the round window in the swinging doors. Business was dying down for the night and your caramel crumb cake crush was gone. You shook your head at yourself and went to the office, schedules needed to be made and supplies ordered tonight. Someone would yell from the front if they needed you.

There was no reason to expect to see your crush the next day. Or the one after that, for that matter. So what, he'd come in a couple times in a week. There was nothing to plan on or expect. When two weeks went by without a sighting, you couldn't really be surprised. His random appearances hardly made him a regular. But it was a little disappointing nonetheless. He had made a rather pretty distraction in the dining area on those nights, though.

It was that rational dismissal of him ever appearing again that made you crack your head on the edge of the counter when you heard that warm voice order a large coffee and piece of caramel crumb cake. Rubbing at the back of your head for a moment, you peered up through the glass of the display case to your side and saw him. Every six foot, bearded smile, baseball hat and glasses wearing, muscly inch of him. You took a moment to compose yourself and stood up slowly, pretending not to notice him until after a minute of restocking bags and napkins.

Your barista handed him his coffee and asked you to plate up his cake since you were next to the case and she was managing a small line at the register. Of course, you nodded with a smile. It was your shop and you enjoyed working the counter over the office any day. It was just an extra bonus that the customer you were helping was him. You slid a piece of cake onto a small plate and set it on top of the bakery case for him to take, smiling politely and hoping it didn't look too schoolgirly.

"Thanks," he said, reaching for the plate. There was a lead there, the hint of an "um" or "uh" that you weren't quite sure how to follow until he added, "Should I just call you Sweetums?"

You gave a small cough with a breath of laughter as you smiled at the idea. _Yes, please_. "What? No," you tittered nervously. "I'm [y/n]. That's just the name of my shop."

"I know," he smiled. "You told me last time."

"Right," you nodded, feeling a faint heat come to your cheeks. "No. Yeah, I did. You're right."

You'd never been more thankful to hear a request for another item from the case to be bagged to go in your life, sighing with a hint of relief as you had something else to do besides drown in this man's blue eyes and embarrassment. His eyebrows tipped up boyishly and he gave you a grin as he took his order and went to a table so you could help the other customers. You couldn't help yourself, your eyes flitted over across the room for a quick peek more than a few times while you helped fill orders. Okay, so it could be a little creepy or stalkerish if you got caught, but luck was on your side and, whenever you stole a look, he was reading or doing something on his phone between bites and sips.

Your curiosity was raised when one of your employees mentioned the guy looked familiar. He couldn't place it, but there was something about him. You mentioned he'd been in a couple times before recently and your worker shrugged. Maybe that was it. Either way, he almost slipped out the door while you made change for the register. It was that beautiful, thoughtful bell above the door that told you to look up just in time to see him walk by the window, smiling back inside when he caught your eye. You felt the warmth come back into your cheeks.

Deliveries came on Thursdays. The boxes and bags were counted, sorted, and shelved or refrigerated appropriately. It didn't usually take much time, but today you did it by yourself so you could keep extra hands up front. Fall school sports season always meant the weekend rush started early in the week and kept the shop jumping in the afternoons till close. Students came in for sweet treats after school, the college ones came for coffee and wifi, the rest came to warm up before or after braving practices and games. Payroll and updating inventory kept you tied to the desk for a couple hours. You didn't get out front again til almost 7 o'clock. 

The dinner crowd was mostly gone. A few regulars were in their spots and the line to order was short and manageable. You went around the counter to help tidy up the tables, wiping tabletops and seats after your busboy cleared the dishes. Working around the room, you exchanged some pleasantries with a couple patrons, heard some opinions on their high school football picks for the next night, and reminded one her favorite pumpkin spice muffin was back on the menu. 

You were just winding down a bit of laughter as you turned away from your guests and someone nearby said, "Wow. You really know your customers."

Turning around to find the voice, you grinned at seeing that gentle smile under the Red Sox hat again. You weren't sure when he'd come in, but you became aware of the pink that came to your cheeks and the excited twist in your stomach. All you could do for a moment was respond with a breathy smile. You found your footing again and let out a dismissive laugh.

"Well, ya do what you can to keep them happy so they keep coming back," you explained. 

"Seem to do a good job of it," he nodded, his eyes wandering across the other tables.

You noticed his table and the lack of caramel crumb cake. You had to ask. "No cake today?"

He looked down at his lonely coffee mug on the table and then back up at you with a lopsided smile, turning up a helpless palm. "You were all out and without your expert recommendation for a good substitute..."

He trailed off with a shrug and you immediately apologized. He had a quick laugh at you and your brow wrinkled with a little worry about letting him down. You glanced at the bakery case just to double check there wasn't any of the cake left while he insisted with another smile that it was alright. You smiled to yourself when he said he'd just have to try and get there sooner the next time.

"I'll keep a piece set aside for you," you promised.

"Well, okay then," he agreed, his head tipping slightly to one side and both hands rising and falling in acceptance.

You pressed your lips together into a slim smile when you swore you saw a blush come to his cheeks at the offer. Before either of you could say anything more, you heard your name from the register. Your cashier held the portable phone up over her head to signal you had a call waiting. You gestured you were needed elsewhere and he put up a hand to wave his blessing of your departure with an understanding nod and pout. You tapped a toe behind your ankle in the world's smallest curtsy and were on your way.

Taking the phone in back, you kept watch through the kitchen door window as your new favorite customer went back to his phone and coffee. Much to your disappointment, you watched him stand up a couple minutes later, fish out a tip for the buser from his pocket, and head for the door. Much to your surprise, you saw him take a slow look along the counter and then back across the dining area before he reached the door. Your pulse quickened at the idea that maybe he was looking for you before he left. It was that light feeling in your belly that kept you smiling for the last hour before the store closed.

He did it on purpose. Came into the store, batted those gorgeous, long lashes at you with some cute comment about your shop, and then disappeared again. What other explanation was there except that he knew how he bothered you and he meant to torture you. It was another long week before he showed up again at the tail end of a Saturday night. 

You chuckled to yourself that it was like a reverse disguise when he showed up this time without his baseball cap and glasses. It wasn't that you missed the hat per se, but the purposefully mussed, light brown hair was enough points added to his overall rating to make you forget to breath for a moment when he came in. His look just kept getting better. A white t-shirt under a black leather jacket spotted with drops of the cold rain outside and he was becoming wonderfully problematic. He smiled at you when he saw you leaning against the back counter near the bakery case as you chatted with the guy working the register. 

Pushing off the counter and grabbing a plate, you served up a slice of caramel crumb cake. You stepped over and put it on the counter before he'd finished giving his coffee order. He looked down at the plate with a laugh and put his hand on his chest. You told the cashier the cake was on the house, but your handsome customer insisted on paying.

"No, really," you said. "Since we didn't have one for you last time. I did promise I'd have one waiting."

"I hope it hasn't been waiting this whole time," he joked, pocketing his change from his coffee.

You pointed behind you to the handmade sign that advertised everything was "baked fresh daily" and smiled. "Nope. Made this morning, just in case you happened by."

His eyebrows quirked up and he smiled with a nod. He picked up his drink and dessert from the counter. "I'm flattered," he said.

"Well, hey," you told him. "Gotta give the customers what they want. Keeps them coming back, right?"

"I'm sure they come back for more than just the cake," he suggested.

Your smile beamed, appreciative of the compliment and excited by what you could almost consider flirting if you wanted to. And you did want to. Hell, you'd listen to him read the phone book to you as long as it kept him talking. It was the most words you two had shared yet and you made a silent prayer that another customer wouldn't come in and shoo him away from the counter. Your eyes followed his hands as he put the plate and cup back down on the countertop.

"Well, we start off easy. Get them hooked on the cake and then start pushing the higher dollar sandwich sales," you explained with a confident smirk.

"That's a good plan," he agreed with a thoughtful pout.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to press your luck at how long you could talk about nothing, the door bell rang in a small group of college students seeking caffeinated warmth from the weather. You managed not to frown when he took his order to a table along the wall and left you with another smile and nod. You turned your attention to the new sales, more than a little disappointed. 

You stole glances from across the room, as had become your new favorite hobby when he was around. He picked at his cake and sipped his coffee. It was an exciting change to see him actually take a call on his phone instead of just reading something on it. You could barely make out a laugh from his end of the conversation and it occurred to you what a pleasant sound his laughter was and that it pulled an involuntary smile to the corner of your mouth when you heard it. You could only hope it wasn't a girlfriend on the other end making him that happy. You hadn't seen a wedding ring so you might stand a small chance, if you ever stopped talking about cake.

When he got off the phone, you watched, a little curious, as a pair of girls from the recent group of students crossed carefully over to his table with a notebook or something in hand. He looked up from his coffee and smiled sheepishly. They appeared to exchange a few words and you were surprised to see him stand up for a selfie with the girls. He took his seat again and the way the girls stood beside him, your view was blocked of whatever he was doing leaning into the table. You were distracted by the phone ringing and dismissed your curiosity to answer the call and go back to your other customers.

With a couple groups in the store and only about ten minutes left of the business hours, you sent one of the baristas to remind them the store was closing soon. You never bothered the individual customers or couples. They usually heard the notice when it was given or were accustomed to the schedule anyway. You assumed your personal favorite in the room had overhead as well when you saw him check his watch under the sleeve of his coat. One group left almost right away and the couples who had tables tonight already knew the drill and were packing up to go. The college students shuffled out slowly, dragging their feet as they passed his table. He and the group had a quick back and forth and a few handshakes. He stood up for another selfie with a new girl from the group and gave her a brief hug.

You took over a bin to help bus the abandoned tables. You glanced over and saw him give the group a polite parting wave as they filed out the door talking and giggling. He sat back down at his table, taking up his mug for a sip when his phone rang. You wiped the table quickly and retreated to the counter when you heard him answer another call. As interested as you were to eavesdrop and investigate if the caller was a girl, your sense of decency overrode your voyerism.

The call was short and he finished his drink before standing up and dropping a tip on the table. He tucked his phone into his coat pocket and his hand came back with a set of keys. You got into the bakery case and bagged an extra piece of cake to go. Folding over the top of the bag, you went to follow him to the door to lock it behind him. He smiled warmly at seeing you on your intercept path to the door. You held out the bag when you met.

"One for the road," you smiled.

"Oh, I couldn't," he protested, holding up his hands in refusal. "You didn't let me pay for the last one."

"Ah, it's alright," you assured him. "Any left overs the staff doesn't claim at the end of the night get dropped off at a shelter. So, really, it's all free after 8."

He hesitated and then nodded as he took hold of the top of the bag, a pair of fingertips brushing yours. "I like that," he said. "Don't know that my trainer would though, but what I don't tell him won't hurt him, I guess."

You giggled. "Well, your secret's safe with me," you told him.

He chuckled and pulled open the door to leave. "I appreciate that."

"Anytime, Crumb Cake," you quiped. 

He snorted a small laugh as he stepped through the door. "Thanks, Sweetums."

You suddenly hated the lights in the store, knowing they let the nighttime world outside the windows see your blushing face. You pushed a bit to help the door close faster and turned the locks. Turning on your heel, your cheeks puffed out when you blew out a deep breath. You only made it a few feet from the door before a knock on the glass behind you turned you back around. Your brow knitted in curiosity when you saw your last customer back at the door. 

Hurrying back and unbolting the door, you opened the door just wide enough to stand in. "Forget something?" you asked.

"No, actually," he said, scratching at the back of his head for a second and raising his eyebrows when he seemed to search for words. "It's kinda funny, really. See, I was gonna ask you out for coffee or something, but then you work at a coffee shop everyday and I couldn't think of anything else to start with."

Your eyes went wide with surprise. You gave a nervous giggle and found yourself stuck for what to say. He coughed out his own nervous titter while he waited for some kind of legitimate reaction. 

"Yeah, sure," you fumbled. "I mean, I drink coffee from other places."

His smile brightened. "Good. Okay then. Well, how 'bout tonight?"

"Oh, well, I have to close up the store," you said, pointing a little disappointedly behind you.

"That's okay," he offered. "I mean, I can wait." He raised his hand with the to-go bag to show you. "I've got something to kill the time."

His hopeful smile and eager eyes were irresistible. You bit your lower lip and nodded. "Sure. Gimme about 20 minutes?"

"No problem," he agreed as you opened the door and gestured for him to come back in. "I'm Chris, by the way."

Finally! A name. "Chris," you parroted, shutting the door and locking it behind him again. "Nice to meet you. I'm [y/n]."

He took a seat at a table by the door and you hurried around the back of the counter to pull the till. Your barista gave you a questioning look as she followed you into the back. You explained the guy in the store was okay and when she asked who he was you shrugged with a smile and said his name was Chris. That's when a tray of dishes rattled loudly from a short drop to the metal counter. You both looked over at the jarring noise and your cashier snapped his fingers at you with an excited face.

"Oh my god," he said, tiptoeing to the kitchen door to peek out the window to the dining area. "That's who it is! He's got that fuckin' beard that's why."

"You know that guy?" you asked, slinking up to the window beside him as your barista followed your lead.

"That's Chris Evans," he told you, as if you all should have known better. "The actor? Captain fuckin' America?!"

"Oh my god," you muttered quietly. How hadn't you seen it before? The hat, the glasses, the beard, and you weren't the biggest fangirl, but you'd seen the movies a couple times. That was a good enough excuse.

"Go," he insisted, putting a hand on your back to urge you forward. "We'll take care of everything else. Just, don't screw it up. I want an autograph later."

You resigned yourself to do as you were told. It wasn't that hard to do anyway. You grabbed your coat and purse and stumbled out through the kitchen doors with a light shove from your helpful staff. A small nervous titter came to you as he stood from his chair to greet you again.

"That was fast," he noted playfully.

"Yeah, well, I had some help," you said, jerking your thumb to the kitchen behind you.

He looked around you as you glanced back and you both caught a glimpse of the gawking faces in the door windows. "Ahh," he said, sounding a little disappointed. "Figured it out, huh?"

"Yyyeah," you nodded. 

"So much for low key," he said with a small shrug of his brow and the hint of a quick frown.

"Don't worry," you soothed, with a warm smile. "You'll always be Crumb Cake to me."

His face softened and smile lit up as he chuckled. "I could live with that, Sweetums."


End file.
